


Nature vs Nurture

by kprambles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Next Gen, Next Generation, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kprambles/pseuds/kprambles
Summary: McGonagall is waiting for them when they arrive to the big wooden doors, “Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Delacour, it is good to see you both,” she greets before continuing, “What did Auror Tonks transfigure into at our last Order Meeting before the war?”“Bellatrix Lestrange,” Bill answers immediately.“She said that we were about to see ‘a whole lot of ugly’, so we might as well adjust,” Fleur tenderly recalls.“It’s great to see you, Headmistress. Thank you so much for meeting with us,” Bill says genuinely.“Of course. And you must be Ms. Weasley,” McGonagall addresses the three year old, “It is good to finally meet you.”~~~Dominique Weasley's origin story!
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is part of a script I am working on over on tumblr ( @ whompingwillovv )! Precursor to Dominique's story. It's got a bit of a spooky vibe to it. :) Will probs be posted in completion here before it's filmed on tumblr (free time? dont know her?) 
> 
> Read and Review! <3

July, 2003

Bill likes to say he had three main takeaways from his time at Gringotts. Firstly and most importantly, meeting the love of his life and his now wife, Fleur Delacour. Secondly, shaping his abilities as a Curse Breaker, and developing his skills as an Advanced Magic Practitioner. And thirdly, giving him the awareness (that he probably should have had much before his employment) that the items Gringotts instructed him to steal were not theirs- nor his, to claim. 

After the Second Wizarding War settled, it was time to rejoin society as they picked up the pieces that Voldemort left in his wake, the eldest Weasley son decided to go back to his Curse Breaking roots, but this time freelance. 

~~~

The only reason Bill decided to bring the kid along in the first place was because he was back at his old stomping ground and trusted his familiarity to make up for the fact that the kid was a novice. That and the kid seemed to have a talent for getting out of sticky situations, which is never something to turn away in his line of work. The kid was eager to do some good after the War, and Bill could relate to that, so he took him on as an Apprentice, which essentially meant going on the occasional raid before separating for months on end. It was easy to take this time apart, in fact, Bill would say that he rarely gave the kid a passing thought until he received an Owl asking about another outing. 

This current mission has been one of his from when he was employed by Gringotts, but he was never able to complete it due to the need for a second person to help get past some of the barriers. After quitting his old post, Bill decided to try this dig again, this time with the goal to return the artifact to the rightful owners.

~~~

They make it in, which is the farthest Bill Weasley has gotten at this particular location. Adrenaline pumps through him, there was nothing more satisfying than a puzzle, the ‘life or death’ element just made it interesting. 

The duo arrives at the first obstacle, a seamless stone wall. To a Muggle this would look like any other dead end, but the wizards could feel the vibrations of protective magic project off the walls. Bill sank his magic into the wards and began peeling them off layers at a time, like the skin of an orange. His peripheries began to get fuzzy from concentration, these wards were strong, whatever was in there had a lot of magic protecting it. 

Nevertheless, Bill’s ward removal proves to be successful. As he continues to strip spells from the wall, the visual began to shift as though behind the stone slab was a dark corridor, until there were no traces of the object that prevented them from continuing on in the first place. 

“Come on,” whispers Bill, illuminating his wand to bring light to their next destination. He trusts that the kid is following behind him and is too engrossed in his task to pause to check. They continue on in silence, paying attention to any sounds or shifts in energy. 

He almost misses it, the shift, the static field that often happens when someone tries to hide powerful amounts of magic. He stops just before he crosses the invisible boundary line, almost too sudden for the kid to stop himself from bumping into his superior, but he regains his composure in time as to not push them past the barrier. The kid in general seems to avoid contact, which is lucky for them in this instance.

Bill stumbles, but catches himself from falling forward, “Why did I stop?”

“Uh, because there is Dark Magic?”

Bill flashes the kid an incredulous look that is normally only saved for his siblings when they say something particularly stupid, “Don’t be cheeky,” Bill admonishes with a brotherly smile, “Use your senses. Why did I stop?”

The kid sighs, but closes his eyes still, “I feel- I don’t know exactly what it is I feel. It has to be suppressed magic, but I can’t say what type they were suppressing. Whatever it is, it’s so faint, I’m amazed you were able to recognize it at all.”

“What can I say? I’m good at what I do,” Bill jokes, “Praestrangulo, the spell of suffocation. It squeezes you similar to how Apparating feels, except it eliminates your ability to breathe, resulting in death by lack of oxygen and sometimes, depending on the spell, your chest cavity being crushed.”

“Ah painful stuff.”

“Remember the identification, remember how to recognize it,” instructs Bill, leaning down and grabbing a small rock the size of his palm. With a wordless wave of his wand, he transfigures the dusty rock into a small, orange field mouse. 

He whispers inaudibly to the mouse that he cups in his large hands, “And most importantly, remember what it does,” he says back to the kid. Then Bill brings his hand to the ground and releases the mouse, who scurries exactly how the Curse Breaker predicted, past the magical boundary and into the spelled area. A few weak squeaks could be heard from the animal before the spell completely overtook it’s small body, ending in it’s death. 

By the look on his assistant’s face, Bill could tell he kinda freaked the kid out, but if he wants to be a Curse Breaker, he has to know what the curses /actually do/. He could explain energy exchange later when they weren’t standing in a potential magical mine field, the kid would just have to suck it up in the meantime. 

“Go over to that end and help me pull down this ward,” Bill commands. The kid does so without hesitation, that’s a good sign at least. He might just have the gull to make it as a Curse Breaker. 

The strip the layers steadily until the kid suddenly comes across…..something.

“Bill?”

Bill grunts in response, a bead of sweat dripping down his face from effort.

“I hit something weird? I don’t know, it feels... sticky?”

‘Sticky? What kind of magic is sticky?’ Bill questions as the kid explains.

“It’s holding on in a peculiar way, but I think I can pull it down-”

‘No,’ Bill realizes as the words are coming out of his assistants mouth, “Wait! Kid! Don’t do that-”

The moment the kid’s wand connects with this foreign magic, beams of dark, tacky magic spring out like a busted pipe. Bill has just enough time to see the kid’s wand be overtaken with sticky sap as the owner looks at him in fear before a beam hits Bill and everything goes black.

~~~

He wakes up to the stars, he’s outside.

“Scourgify!” 

It’s the kid, he got them out. The kid’s ok, that’s good, that’s what matters.

“I got you Bill, help is on the way. You’re going to be ok,” he hears the kid say, he also hears the quiver in his voice, he chooses to ignore that part.

Bill’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he passes out once more. 

~~~

The next time he comes to someone’s wand is flashing in his eyes, “Mr. Weasley? Mr. Weasley, can you hear me?”

He wishes he could answer, he wants to answer. But he feels weird, like something inside him is moving that shouldn’t… be… there.

“Can you see me, Mr. Weasley?” the person asks again.

‘If you removed that daft light from my face I might be able to,’ is the last thought that crosses Bill’s mind before he loses consciousness once again. 

~~~

The third time he wakes up is much better. He smells the familiar scent of jasmine and vanilla and hears the soft music fill the room, he knows who he will open his eyes to this time.

Every time he looks at her it’s like the first time he saw her. Well, not at Hogwarts, covered in dirt and blood, crying over her friend, but after, his wife lights up every room she enters.

“Fleur,” he whispers with a smile, earning her attention.

“Bill! Oh my sweet, stupid husband!” she cries with joy when she hears him, bounding over to the bed she peppers him with kisses on his scarred face. 

“I guess I broke my promise, didn’t I?” Bill jokes, sitting up in the Hospital Bed. 

“Yes, you did, but I knew you would. Promising to not end up in the Hospital Wing is a noble swear, but unrealistic for someone as reckless as you, mon beau,” she responds, mentally taking him in, looking him over for any bumps or bruises, just as she had done every hour since she arrived at the ward, “How do you feel?”

“Hungry and sore, but fine otherwise,” Bill dutifully answers.

“Hm, let me get the Healer to look you over, just in case. And I will see if I can get you something to eat. Then we can go home to Victoire, quick and easy,” she reassured, tapping him on the nose before leaving the room. 

Not a moment passes before a Healer comes trailing in after Fleur. Bill looks up in time to catch the man ogling her as she sways by, charming. 

The Healer’s neck flushes up to the tips of his ears at being caught, as he comes around the bed trying to regain his composure Bill sees Fleur give the man a look of disgust to his back. 

“Good morning, Mr. Weasley, it’s good to see you. You gave us quite a scare there for a moment, but you’re awake, which means things are working as they should be. How do you feel?” the Healer asks as he takes Bill’s vitals. 

“Honestly I feel alright. My head hurts a bit, and I am hungry, but other than that I’m okay,” Bill responds.

“Like I told you out in the hallway, he needs food, Healer,” Fleur interrupts from where she was watching. 

“And like I said /Miss/, he needs an evaluation before I can allow him to eat. If being in here is too difficult for you, you may wait in the hallway,” he responds curtly, not meeting her eyes. 

Fleur swallows her anger for the sake of her husband, “Continue.”

The Healer turned back to Bill, “Any nausea, discomfort, or feelings of impending doom?”

Bill lets the Healer poke and prod at him, “I mean, I don’t necessarily feel good, but nothing out of the ordinary stands out. I just want to go home really.”

The Healer makes a note in his chart and hums to himself, “Can you walk me through what you remember?”

Bill lets out a resigned sigh, “I was excavating a couple of tombs for an unfinished project of mine. I entered the tomb, I walked down a couple of marked passages that I had previously explored, when I noticed a wall that was actually not a wall. I removed the illusion and found a new passageway--” 

“Did you notice anything strange when you removed the barrier?”

“No, I didn’t notice anything,” Bill huffs, adding ‘If I did I would have told you’ mentally.

“I continued down the passageway until I came upon another barrier that was warded with the ‘Praestrangulo’ curse. I began to remove it and,” Bill pauses in thought, ‘And what? He began to remove the curse and…. something. There’s something he /knows/. Merlin, he’s hungry, and just wants to go home.’

“Bill? What happened next?” The Healer prompts

Bill looks to his wife, worry etched across her face. He focuses his attention back on the Healer, “The explosion,” he lies, “Whatever was back there exploded... and then again when I woke up here.” He really hopes that Healer writes this hiccup up to trauma, and not that he actually can’t remember. The sooner they finish the evaluation the sooner he and Fleur can go. 

The Healer meets his eyes and holds his stare for a moment, as if he is making his mind up about what Bill said. 

“Well,” The Healer starts, “It sounds to me like your memory is intact. Your scans all came back clear, and you don’t show any signs of defective magic. Due to the lack of any lasting damage, I imagine you were hit by a /common/ Exploding Curse, you should be fit to return to work in two weeks time, maybe sooner considering the rate at which you are healing. I'm going to write you a prescription for a Sleep Drought, in the meantime.”

“A Sleeping Drought? Why would he need that? Is there something the matter with him?” Fleur makes her way over to her husband and places her hand on his.

The Healer gives her a tight smile, “Well, Mr. Weasley just went through a traumatic event. The Sleeping Drought is just in case he experiences any sort of delayed reaction to that trauma. He doesn’t have to take it, it’s not mandatory, but he might experience nightmares or insomnia-- All of which are perfectly normal as his brain tries to process what happened. You don’t have to take it, it’s just precautionary. Better to have it and not need it and all that, ” he finishes, tearing the form from his pad and giving it to Fleur before leaving. 

“Good riddance. What a miserable man,” Fleur scoffs and she collects her things and goes to help Bill stand up. 

Bill, however, does not hear her, still thinking about what he couldn’t remember. 

“Come on, my sweet. You’ve been in the hospital for far too long, let’s go home.”

~~~

Flashes of the dunes flicker through Bill's mind as he sleeps, images of red hair and fear fly by with rapid succession. Bill stirs in his sleep, but the fear doesn’t wake him yet, toying with his subconscious for as long as it’s allowed. His memory can feel the climax of the night terror building to the explosion. The dream picks up pace, dunes, red hair, dead mouse, dunes, red hair, dead mouse, dunes, red hair, dead mouse, and then he remembers: the kid. The kid looking at him with terror displayed across his face before the explosion happens. 

Bill wakes up shaking, and gasping for air.

Fleur is awake not even a second later, already armed with her wand before she realizes the disturbance was her husband, PTSD still lingering over them like rain clouds in the distance. 

“Oh my sweet. You’re okay, you’re safe, we all are. Breathe darling, I have you,” she cooes wrapping her arms around her husband's shuddering shoulders. 

“F-Fleur? What happened to the kid?” he asks urgently. 

Fleur searches his eyes for a moment before responding, “Victoire is next door darling, just where we put her to bed a few hours ago.”

Frantic confusion falters him, “No, not our daughter. The kid. /The/ kid! My assistant. Fuck! Why can’t I remember his name? He has red hair, and- and blue eyes? Maybe brown? He came with me into the dunes and he-” Bill stutters, a faint ‘Scourgify’ rings from his memories followed by his assistant’s face right before the explosion, “He saved me I think.”

Fleur is quiet for a moment before whispering tenderly, “Bill, nobody went into the dunes with you. You went alone.”

They sit with the silence before Fleur breaks it, “The Healer said you could have nightmares, mon beau. That’s all that it was.”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” he stutters, “I don’t know what’s going on. I feel off, it doesn’t feel right.”

“Okay, that’s okay. Let us sleep on it, and we can figure it out in the morning. No better solution than a good night’s rest, just like Molly advises.”

Bill flops back in bed and rubs his face a few times, “I think I’m awake for the day,” he groans, “Unless you want to help me fall back asleep?” he asks, peeking through his fingers up to his wife. 

She gives him a once over, a cheeky smirk gracing her face, “The Healer has you on bed rest.”

“I’m in bed, am I not? And I will be resting soon enough, no?”

Fleur tuts fondly, pulling back her sheer nightgown and exposing her leg, “I do not think that is what he meant, mon beau, but I have been told I have a healing touch.” 

She moves her leg to the other side of his body, straddling him, and Nox the light.

PT 1/7

TBC


	2. February, 2004

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zoinks scoob an update!

February, 2004

A doorknob lock unclicks quietly, the door creaking open as Bill slinks in, making sure to Colloportus the lock behind him. While having a creaking front door was a helpful alarm system during the War, it was /not/ helpful for sneaking home after being out far past when he said he would.

However Lady Luck seems to be on his side as he walks silently through his kitchen heading towards the bedroom.

“Lumos.”

Fuck. Bill stops in his tracks and turns around to face his very upset wife sitting at their kitchen table with a cup of tea. They stare silently at each other for a moment, waiting to see what the other will say.

“Fleur I-”

“Shut up,” she interrupts, “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about your ‘guaranteed lead’ or your ‘one last idea’.”

“Fleur I have-” 

Fire sparks in her eyes at her husband’s reply, “I do not want to hear about mystery people with red hair or dead rodents or any of it! I do not want to hear any of it! It has been months, it is time to put it to rest.” 

Bill sighs so deep it feels as if the house sighs with him, weariness displayed on his face freely.  
“Fleur, I can’t explain it- he haunts me. No matter how many missions we went on, I can’t find him anywhere. I can’t remember his face, I can’t find his family. I can’t even remember his fucking name!” 

Fleur says nothing, for there is nothing else she could say that she hasn’t tried before. After a moment she speaks quietly, “I am tired of your phantom, Bill.”

Bill can feel himself getting worked up, panic rises quickly morphing into mania, but he can’t compartmentalize enough to coax himself down, “Every time I feel like I get close, I lose it. Do you know how infuriating it is to know you’re forgetting something? To have a name on the tip of your tongue, so real you can taste it, but can’t recall it? To have a face float through your head, but can’t recognize it? I know he’s out there, finding him is all that matters,” Bill says with little conviction.

“This, our family, our daughter, me- /this/ is what matters, William. I will not let you put us on the back burner for a fool’s mission,” Fleur says firmly. 

“On the back burner?!” Bill whisper-cries, aware of his sleeping daughter next door. He takes three large steps towards his sitting wife, who immediately stands up to match him, knocking the chair down as she stands, showing her pregnant stomach. 

They stare each other down while simultaneously waiting to see if Victoire would wake from the noise.

“My love, my wife-” 

“William-”

“Please, Fleur? I can’t- I can’t let it go, don’t you understand? I /know/ he’s real, I /know/ he’s out there somewhere. And there’s something that- I can’t let him go,” Bill’s whisper tinges with desperation. 

Fleur breaks eye contact with him, to look down at her unborn child, her slender hands cupped around her stomach, “This baby is powerful, I can feel it’s magic churning inside of me, and there is something that scares me about it-”

A soft voice calls from the doorway, “Maman? Papa?”

Fleur instantly regains her composure, “ Go back to bed, dove. I will come tuck you in,” she implores her four year old, who turns back down the corridor as her mother wishes. 

Bill kneels and corrects the upturned chair, turning to press his forehead to the baby bump, “Be nice in there little one, you are making your mother quite upset,” he jokingly whispers, trying to ease the tension. 

Fleur grabs her husband’s chin, tilting it to meet her eyes, “I am going to bed. Join me now and end this tirade, or go to Molly’s, the decision is yours.”

She steps around her husband, leaving him kneeling on the ground. 

“Nox.”

Bill is left there sitting in the dark.


End file.
